Dear Senator McConnell:
“The American People” voted overwhelmingly in favor of President Obama’s agenda so many of your comments confuse me. Remember that election in November, 2008? What did you think "The American People" were trying to tell you when they booted your party out and voted President Obama in? Many of us are unhappy because he allowed your party of no to obstruct and to water-down what he did manage to accomplish but that does not mean we would prefer to have you in charge. That is just faulty logic.
This recent statement from you clearly indicates that you still don’t accept the fact that your party lost, and suggests that you want to forget that your real neighbors in Jefferson County did not elect you.
“I know it’s become fashionable in some quarters to refer to Republicans as ‘the Party of No.’ But if we regularly voted for things we opposed, we wouldn’t be worth much,” he said. “The American people wouldn’t have anywhere to turn if the party in power gets carried away. And it’s clear to me at least that most Americans now believe the party in power got carried away.”
As usual, no one can possibly believe that you have a clue about what “most Americans” are thinking, or how many are living, even in your own neighborhood. Until I see some sign that you are catching on, I will continue to introduce you to your neighbors. Today, I present Karen. She was someone’s little girl.
Karen has a room on York,
a far cry from the mansion she lost on Winter.
Maybe it isn't far.
Three miles, give or take,
seen differently by car, bus, or foot.
It's far enough she can't walk over to look at it any more.
Truth be told,
it wasn't ever a mansion
except in Karen's heart.
It was an investment
to the man who scarfed it for a song at auction,
and remains a source of irritation
to the renters who pay a small fortune for it now,
getting little in return for their money.
It was a cry, for sure.
That part was true and never changes.
Karen was someone's little girl. Had to be.
Mothers can't run out before the baby is born,
so she belonged to someone for a few minutes
no matter what happened later.
Like all little girls,
she came into the world with innocent eyes
and a spontaneous smile.
Maybe the investor got what was left of those at auction too.
With or without joy,
Karen was someone's pride at some point.
Someone clapped when she took her first run across the room,
and noticed when she strung her vocabulary into a full sentence.
Surely, Miss Gray patted herself on the back
for implanting the multiplication tables in Karen's hard head,
and Johnny Rogers puffed his chest
over distracting her from them.
Ah, yes, Karen was someone's crush.
She attracted plenty of attention
from the football player who shared her table in biology class,
and the big eared boy on the bus.
And there was that driver at the moving company
where she answered phones after graduation,
who couldn't keep his eyes off her.
She might even be someone's unforgettable first love.
She thinks she was someone's wife in the seventies
He might have died,
or wanted her dead
and he might still dream about her smile.
Speaking of smiles,
she smiled a lot on Winter,
when she was someone's neighbor.
She waved from her chair on the porch,
took soup over when anyone was sick,
shoveled Mr. Turner's steps,
and made a quilt for every baby born on the street.
She didn't get to smile the day she left.
Her friends weren't out there
when she sorted through her things at the curb
to gather what she could carry,
but she would smile the next time she saw them.
She walked back to Winter as long as she could,
because babies aren't born on York
and there aren't any porches.
She would walk back to Winter to look for smiles,
if she could still walk
She smiled a lot when she still had teeth,
and others smiled back.
She had teeth when she still had insurance.
Teeth and glasses, and allergy medicine
so her eyes and nose weren't so runny, and red.
Maybe she's glad she doesn't have glasses on York,
so she doesn't know when people don't smile back.
She had insurance when she still had a job.
She was somebody's valued employee for thirty years
and has a pin to prove it.
Well, she had the pin
until she lost it on the curb on Winter,
but sometimes she still has memories of the job she loved.
She had a job when she still had her health,
or at least when she still had the strength
to pretend she had her health.
She was someone's inspiration
when she ignored her pain
and continued to work
for her insurance and smile.
The doctor got that
long before the investor came along.
She was someone's friend
when she still had health and a job
and teeth and a smile.
She was everyone's friend.
She loved.
She cared.
She was someone's savior,
everyone's champion,
a crusader of causes.
She is someone's cause now.
She is someone else's sin.
Since someone criticized me for posting only negative things, I tried—really tried—to find some feel-good stories about what you’ve done to help people like this neighbor I introduce today. Didn’t find a thing. Darn. But, to please those who want positive news, I’m including a few links to recent articles I found about Congressman Yarmuth’s involvement in local projects.
Center for Women and Families breaks ground on new apartment complex
Giving Back, Congressman Yarmuth donates congressional salary to local charities
Mortgage Help for Kentucky’s Unemployed [“Thousands of Kentucky families have been hit hard by the economic downturn, struggling to pay their bills and keep a roof over their heads,” said Congressman John Yarmuth, of Louisville. “Ensuring these families can stay in their homes isn’t just the right thing to do – it’s critical to our economic recovery.”]
Congressman John Yarmuth Announces $3M for St. Bartholomew Senior Housing
Looking forward to bringing in Lori soon,
Sandy Knauer
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Senator McConnell, Meet Your Neighbors
Dear Senator (much to my regret) McConnell:
Even though this is dated, someone brought it to my attention today so I'm bringing it to yours. Now that you've vowed to do nothing in the Senate, and your candidate, Rand Paul is such an embarrassment you are hiding from sight, you might have time to go back and revisit some earlier decisions. Maybe you can even pull your nose out of the air, walk the streets of Louisville, meet some of the people I've met here, and grow a conscience.
Here are a few who I will never forget. If they survived the devastation of the Bush years and the Republican Party obstructionism so far in the Obama Administration, you might start on and around Broadway. That's where I met most of them. Maybe ride the bus from home to your office, I'm sure you'll see them, or others just like them.
Reverend Stanton - You'd surely have to love this man. Well, maybe not. Most people would.
The alcove seemed a strange location for sorting laundry, but who was I to judge this man? He wasn't blocking the entrance or hurting anything. In fact, his sweet smile was a nicer welcome than I usually received from the security guard.
"Good morning," I said as I passed him to open the door.
"That it is," he replied. "God bless you, dear."
"And you." The door closed behind me. He was out of my line of vision as I stood to wait for the elevator, but not out of my mind.
Another employee joined me before the car arrived. "Where's security? Did you see the bum outside the door?"
It was difficult to honestly answer her question. I had seen the man, but didn't want to call him a bum. "He's a pleasant man," I said.
The elevator arrived and she continued her rant as we rode up together. "I'm complaining. We don't need bums out there blocking the door and begging every time we come or go."
"He did neither when I came through," I reported. "Said good morning and blessed me. Did he ask you for money?"
"No, I didn't give him the chance."
Grateful for my third floor exit, I wished her a good day and headed for my office. When I opened the door, I found my coworkers huddled around our frantic receptionist. "I'm calling the police," she exclaimed. "He has no business out there."
"The man in the alcove?" I asked. "Did he do something wrong?"
"He's loitering," a secretary said.
"He smells bad and he's crazy," the bookkeeper added.
The receptionist picked up the phone and I went out the door and down the stairs. "Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked the man.
He continued to sort clothes into two stacks, darks on one side and light on the other. I say light because he only had one white sweatshirt to go with the three dark items.
"Not yet," he answered. "I'm planning out my day now. Gotta get the laundry done so I'll be ready when they call." He moved the darks to the right and the white to the left. "VA's making room for me to have my surgery. Gonna call when they have a bed available."
"Sir, I have a strange favor to ask. Will you go eat breakfast for me?"
"Reverend," he said proudly. "Reverend Stanton. Army chaplain."
"Reverend Stanton, Miller's cafeteria is two blocks away. I'd give anything to run over for scrambled eggs and a bagel, but I'm already running late for work. Can I talk you into going there to eat for me?" I held three dollars out to him. "Please?"
"Gave up my place last week," he said, ignoring my money and my request. "They keep you forever at the VA, you know. No sense wasting rent money while I'm in the hospital."
"Reverend, you have to move from this spot before the police come. Some employees in the building are uncomfortable with a stranger on the premises. I'm sorry."
Reverend Stanton gathered his laundry, draping one item at a time over his arm until all four were settled. He used his other hand to hold onto the wall and struggle to his feet. When he turned to face me, he looked at my money but made no attempt to take it.
"Knee replacement. Was supposed to just pray and counsel like my first tour. Only reason I re-upped for the second one was to pray with those guys who had been there too long. Ended up getting my knee blown out." He smiled through foggy eyes. "But I can't complain. God brought me home alive."
"Then take this money as a token of my appreciation for what you did for your country," I encouraged.
He patted the clothes with his right hand. "Would you mind if I used your money for the laundry instead of breakfast? If I eat, it won't do anything for your hungry."
I opened my purse and took out another five. "Here, have breakfast and do the laundry. You can't take dirty clothes to the VA hospital."
He stuck the money in his pocket and blessed me a few more times before limping away. I watched until he crossed at the corner, hoping he'd find a friendlier alcove in which to wait for his call from the VA hospital.
He Never Did Like Rice
It was warm, so I sat outside, to eat my lunch in the sun
I met a man who'd lost his way, and didn't know any one
He swallowed his pride, avoided my eyes,
and in a tiny voice, shared with me his plight
My stomach's churnin', feet are burnin', and my heart cries
He nodded his head, self-consciously said, he hadn't eaten in nights
I offered to share my meal, and without thinking twice
He said thanks, you're awfully nice, but I never did like rice
He looked so sad standing there, I offered him a smile
Tried to show I truly cared, before he walked another mile
I didn't have a penny to spare, but I tried to be nice
Said I had enough to share, but he still didn't like rice
I see him nearly every day, on corners here and there
I still hear him ask, have you a dollar to spare
I always say a little prayer, please help him through the night
Let him know how much I care, even if he won't eat rice
He ages faster than he should, from sleeping on the street
Carries along a stick of wood, to aid his crippled feet
I'd help the man, if I could, his stomach pays the price
no matter how hungry he feels, he simply won't eat rice
Could be rice was all he had when he was in Hanoi
Could be hunger isn't so bad, compared to life without joy
Or maybe choice matters more when it's the only thing left in life
So he treasures the freedom - to voice his distaste for rice
After you think about the vets for a few days, I'll introduce you to some other homeless people.
Sandy
Even though this is dated, someone brought it to my attention today so I'm bringing it to yours. Now that you've vowed to do nothing in the Senate, and your candidate, Rand Paul is such an embarrassment you are hiding from sight, you might have time to go back and revisit some earlier decisions. Maybe you can even pull your nose out of the air, walk the streets of Louisville, meet some of the people I've met here, and grow a conscience.
Here are a few who I will never forget. If they survived the devastation of the Bush years and the Republican Party obstructionism so far in the Obama Administration, you might start on and around Broadway. That's where I met most of them. Maybe ride the bus from home to your office, I'm sure you'll see them, or others just like them.
Reverend Stanton - You'd surely have to love this man. Well, maybe not. Most people would.
The alcove seemed a strange location for sorting laundry, but who was I to judge this man? He wasn't blocking the entrance or hurting anything. In fact, his sweet smile was a nicer welcome than I usually received from the security guard.
"Good morning," I said as I passed him to open the door.
"That it is," he replied. "God bless you, dear."
"And you." The door closed behind me. He was out of my line of vision as I stood to wait for the elevator, but not out of my mind.
Another employee joined me before the car arrived. "Where's security? Did you see the bum outside the door?"
It was difficult to honestly answer her question. I had seen the man, but didn't want to call him a bum. "He's a pleasant man," I said.
The elevator arrived and she continued her rant as we rode up together. "I'm complaining. We don't need bums out there blocking the door and begging every time we come or go."
"He did neither when I came through," I reported. "Said good morning and blessed me. Did he ask you for money?"
"No, I didn't give him the chance."
Grateful for my third floor exit, I wished her a good day and headed for my office. When I opened the door, I found my coworkers huddled around our frantic receptionist. "I'm calling the police," she exclaimed. "He has no business out there."
"The man in the alcove?" I asked. "Did he do something wrong?"
"He's loitering," a secretary said.
"He smells bad and he's crazy," the bookkeeper added.
The receptionist picked up the phone and I went out the door and down the stairs. "Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked the man.
He continued to sort clothes into two stacks, darks on one side and light on the other. I say light because he only had one white sweatshirt to go with the three dark items.
"Not yet," he answered. "I'm planning out my day now. Gotta get the laundry done so I'll be ready when they call." He moved the darks to the right and the white to the left. "VA's making room for me to have my surgery. Gonna call when they have a bed available."
"Sir, I have a strange favor to ask. Will you go eat breakfast for me?"
"Reverend," he said proudly. "Reverend Stanton. Army chaplain."
"Reverend Stanton, Miller's cafeteria is two blocks away. I'd give anything to run over for scrambled eggs and a bagel, but I'm already running late for work. Can I talk you into going there to eat for me?" I held three dollars out to him. "Please?"
"Gave up my place last week," he said, ignoring my money and my request. "They keep you forever at the VA, you know. No sense wasting rent money while I'm in the hospital."
"Reverend, you have to move from this spot before the police come. Some employees in the building are uncomfortable with a stranger on the premises. I'm sorry."
Reverend Stanton gathered his laundry, draping one item at a time over his arm until all four were settled. He used his other hand to hold onto the wall and struggle to his feet. When he turned to face me, he looked at my money but made no attempt to take it.
"Knee replacement. Was supposed to just pray and counsel like my first tour. Only reason I re-upped for the second one was to pray with those guys who had been there too long. Ended up getting my knee blown out." He smiled through foggy eyes. "But I can't complain. God brought me home alive."
"Then take this money as a token of my appreciation for what you did for your country," I encouraged.
He patted the clothes with his right hand. "Would you mind if I used your money for the laundry instead of breakfast? If I eat, it won't do anything for your hungry."
I opened my purse and took out another five. "Here, have breakfast and do the laundry. You can't take dirty clothes to the VA hospital."
He stuck the money in his pocket and blessed me a few more times before limping away. I watched until he crossed at the corner, hoping he'd find a friendlier alcove in which to wait for his call from the VA hospital.
He Never Did Like Rice
It was warm, so I sat outside, to eat my lunch in the sun
I met a man who'd lost his way, and didn't know any one
He swallowed his pride, avoided my eyes,
and in a tiny voice, shared with me his plight
My stomach's churnin', feet are burnin', and my heart cries
He nodded his head, self-consciously said, he hadn't eaten in nights
I offered to share my meal, and without thinking twice
He said thanks, you're awfully nice, but I never did like rice
He looked so sad standing there, I offered him a smile
Tried to show I truly cared, before he walked another mile
I didn't have a penny to spare, but I tried to be nice
Said I had enough to share, but he still didn't like rice
I see him nearly every day, on corners here and there
I still hear him ask, have you a dollar to spare
I always say a little prayer, please help him through the night
Let him know how much I care, even if he won't eat rice
He ages faster than he should, from sleeping on the street
Carries along a stick of wood, to aid his crippled feet
I'd help the man, if I could, his stomach pays the price
no matter how hungry he feels, he simply won't eat rice
Could be rice was all he had when he was in Hanoi
Could be hunger isn't so bad, compared to life without joy
Or maybe choice matters more when it's the only thing left in life
So he treasures the freedom - to voice his distaste for rice
After you think about the vets for a few days, I'll introduce you to some other homeless people.
Sandy
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Finally, Something Seems to be Trickling Down, Senator McConnell
Dear Senator McConnell:
Not only was your performance on Meet the Press this morning entertaining, it reminded me to question everything because not much is what it seems. I was nodding along, admiring your artful dance around the questions and enjoying how skillfully you substituted your familiar song in lieu of answers when your expression seemed to change, a ha ha ha slipped out, and you seemed like a real person. And that’s where the trouble started; you seemed like a person I know, who seemed like a different person than he actually is.
If this seems confusing, please stay with me while I try to explain.
A man who seemed like a friend, and who seemed honest, asked me to help him get to Washington. He needed the work he had been offered in Washington but had no one to watch his children while he was gone. I will admit that I am not as nice as I seemed because my first thought was that he should ask the woman he dates, or her children, not me and mine. But he seemed desperate. I said I would talk to my daughter; if she wanted to watch his children for a week, I would help on the evenings she had to work late. He seemed grateful and relieved me of responsibility by assuring me his teen-aged son would watch the children while she worked.
Washington is not the only connection. Like you, he did not go there to work on what we thought we were sending him there to do. Sources close to him reported that he had gone there with a special interest (the woman). In the end, the two of them had a fun time, posed for a few photo ops, and lined their own pockets, but they did not return any of that to the babysitter who thought she was sending him there to do a different job. And, like you, he did not care how badly the people he left behind suffered as a result of his irresponsibility and dishonesty. When the babysitter reported that she had been robbed, her car had been vandalized, she had been threatened with physical harm, and had lost time at her job in order to deal with the problems he left behind, his response was much like your response when David Gregory asked, “Are the tax cuts paid for?” Same as you, he danced all over the place, tossed out some unrelated talking points, pointed a finger at the baby sitter, and suggested that she deserved what was done to her. Like your special interest groups and your party, his special interest sponsored dishonest propaganda about the babysitter and told her to pull herself up by the bootstraps (or eat shit and die, as the case may be).
A week later, he has not answered the one simple question (what is the name of the boy who tried to coax his buddies into tag teaming* the babysitter and vandalized her car?) the same as I can bet that a week from now you will not have answered the simple question, “Do you think the tax cuts you support are paid for?” Honestly, getting this boy’s identification from the irresponsible father seems as difficult as getting that list of donors from you a few years ago, and I don’t have the Courier Journal digging for me.
None of it seems right to me. Unless, of course, right refers to political leanings. In that case, it seems totally right.
While comparing the two situations might seem like a long stretch to some people, I say it is not. The longer people live with corruption and dishonesty, the more normal it seems to them. Those are the things that do trickle down - all the way into the neighborhoods in your community, Senator McConnell.
So, do you think the tax cuts for the wealthy are paid for? It seems like a very simple question. It also seems like THE American babysitters need leaders who demonstrate honesty and courage. Here’s your chance to make a positive change.
Sincerely,
Sandy
*Tag team has several definitions. In wrestling, a tag team consists of two wrestlers who are working together as a team. The urban definition is when multiple guys have sex with a girl and one tags another when a break is needed. When the girl is a babysitter who is trying to force drunken teens out of the house, I think it is safe to assume the urban definition would apply, and the suggested activity would be gang rape.
Not only was your performance on Meet the Press this morning entertaining, it reminded me to question everything because not much is what it seems. I was nodding along, admiring your artful dance around the questions and enjoying how skillfully you substituted your familiar song in lieu of answers when your expression seemed to change, a ha ha ha slipped out, and you seemed like a real person. And that’s where the trouble started; you seemed like a person I know, who seemed like a different person than he actually is.
If this seems confusing, please stay with me while I try to explain.
A man who seemed like a friend, and who seemed honest, asked me to help him get to Washington. He needed the work he had been offered in Washington but had no one to watch his children while he was gone. I will admit that I am not as nice as I seemed because my first thought was that he should ask the woman he dates, or her children, not me and mine. But he seemed desperate. I said I would talk to my daughter; if she wanted to watch his children for a week, I would help on the evenings she had to work late. He seemed grateful and relieved me of responsibility by assuring me his teen-aged son would watch the children while she worked.
Washington is not the only connection. Like you, he did not go there to work on what we thought we were sending him there to do. Sources close to him reported that he had gone there with a special interest (the woman). In the end, the two of them had a fun time, posed for a few photo ops, and lined their own pockets, but they did not return any of that to the babysitter who thought she was sending him there to do a different job. And, like you, he did not care how badly the people he left behind suffered as a result of his irresponsibility and dishonesty. When the babysitter reported that she had been robbed, her car had been vandalized, she had been threatened with physical harm, and had lost time at her job in order to deal with the problems he left behind, his response was much like your response when David Gregory asked, “Are the tax cuts paid for?” Same as you, he danced all over the place, tossed out some unrelated talking points, pointed a finger at the baby sitter, and suggested that she deserved what was done to her. Like your special interest groups and your party, his special interest sponsored dishonest propaganda about the babysitter and told her to pull herself up by the bootstraps (or eat shit and die, as the case may be).
A week later, he has not answered the one simple question (what is the name of the boy who tried to coax his buddies into tag teaming* the babysitter and vandalized her car?) the same as I can bet that a week from now you will not have answered the simple question, “Do you think the tax cuts you support are paid for?” Honestly, getting this boy’s identification from the irresponsible father seems as difficult as getting that list of donors from you a few years ago, and I don’t have the Courier Journal digging for me.
None of it seems right to me. Unless, of course, right refers to political leanings. In that case, it seems totally right.
While comparing the two situations might seem like a long stretch to some people, I say it is not. The longer people live with corruption and dishonesty, the more normal it seems to them. Those are the things that do trickle down - all the way into the neighborhoods in your community, Senator McConnell.
So, do you think the tax cuts for the wealthy are paid for? It seems like a very simple question. It also seems like THE American babysitters need leaders who demonstrate honesty and courage. Here’s your chance to make a positive change.
Sincerely,
Sandy
*Tag team has several definitions. In wrestling, a tag team consists of two wrestlers who are working together as a team. The urban definition is when multiple guys have sex with a girl and one tags another when a break is needed. When the girl is a babysitter who is trying to force drunken teens out of the house, I think it is safe to assume the urban definition would apply, and the suggested activity would be gang rape.
Hell froze over, pigs flew, and Mitch McConnell’s name landed in my Honest Politician group
Dear Senator McConnell:
I am as surprised as anyone to see your name enter the carefully moderated pages of my Honest Politician Group. With so little chance you would ever accidentally utter a truth or purposely break your only perfect record, and no way in hell anyone could sneak a dishonest post about your non-existent virtues past me, I thought the group was safe.
And then came this deliciously ironic twist of events.
Hell didn’t exactly freeze over but temperatures here in McConnell hell did drop into tolerable ranges during Kentucky State Fair week, closely resembling the same phenomenon. And pigs, both of the two and four leg varieties, were involved. The country ham went for $1.6 million; no word yet on what you or Rand Paul sold yourselves for in that room full of corporate money.
From what I hear, the Annual Country Ham Breakfast, an event where politicians and pork come together to impress power ($) and people, went pretty much as usual. Pigs did not fly nor did my hero, Congressman John Yarmuth, earn the recognition he deserved - until later, when a listener emailed a radio talk show host to ask why he didn’t stand to applaud you at the pork fest. And a hero was born.
I’ll let Joseph Gerth of the Courier Journal tell the rest of the story:
U.S. Rep. John Yarmuth sharply criticized Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell Friday, saying the most powerful Republican in Washington “has this wonderful habit of being meticulously accurate with what he says and rarely honest.”
Yarmuth, D-3rd District, acknowledged that he didn’t stand for McConnell and said the Republican leader was misleading the crowd when he talked about the impact of a Democratic proposal to allow some of the Bush-era tax cuts to expire at the end of the year.
Specifically, he took issue with McConnell’s claim that increasing the income tax rate on the top earners would affect 50 percent of all small business income.
“I didn’t have a Joe Wilson moment, although I was close,” said Yarmuth, a reference to the South Carolina Republican who shouted “you lie” as President Barack Obama spoke to a joint session of Congress last September.
McConnell, in a statement, responded by saying, “I appreciate John pointing out that my arguments against the Democrats’ efforts to raise taxes on small businesses in Kentucky were ‘meticulously accurate.’ ”
McConnell told the breakfast that Republicans and Democrats would be fighting over a tax increase when they return to Washington next month.
“You’ve heard those in charge in Washington argue that this is only going to be a tax increase on people making over a quarter of a million dollars a year and you’ve gotten out your tax return and breathed a sigh of relief and said, ‘Gee, it won’t affect me,’ ” McConnell said.
“The problem with that is, if you raise taxes on the top two (tax brackets) you will impact 50 percent of small business income and 24 percent of the workforce in the middle of a recession, because a huge percentage of our businesses don’t pay taxes as corporations, they pay taxes as individuals,” McConnell said.
On the WHAS program, Yarmuth argued that, while McConnell was technically accurate, only a small percentage of small business owners would be affected by a tax increase.
“The 50 percent of small business income is basically being earned by billionaires,” Yarmuth said. “It’s just so disingenuous to try to create the impression that the vast number of small business owners are going to be affected.”
Republicans and Democrats agree that more than 90 percent of small businesses pay taxes at individual rates. But the Joint Committee on Taxation, a nonpartisan congressional group, says that in 2011 only about 3 percent of all taxpayers reporting net positive business income — about 750,000 — would earn enough to qualify to pay higher rates if taxes are raised on individuals earning more than $200,000 or couples earning more than $250,000.
Yarmuth said he has known McConnell for about 40 years and was a political ally before becoming a Democrat in 1985. Throughout that time, he said, McConnell has used facts in such a way as to mislead voters.
And, calling McConnell “devious,” Yarmuth said the Senate minority leader knew he was mischaracterizing the statistics he cited.
I thank Congressman Yarmuth for his honesty, and for being courageous enough to say that he thinks we deserve the same from you. I hope other honest politicians will take his lead and stand up to those who are purposely misleading the public.
I am as surprised as anyone to see your name enter the carefully moderated pages of my Honest Politician Group. With so little chance you would ever accidentally utter a truth or purposely break your only perfect record, and no way in hell anyone could sneak a dishonest post about your non-existent virtues past me, I thought the group was safe.
And then came this deliciously ironic twist of events.
Hell didn’t exactly freeze over but temperatures here in McConnell hell did drop into tolerable ranges during Kentucky State Fair week, closely resembling the same phenomenon. And pigs, both of the two and four leg varieties, were involved. The country ham went for $1.6 million; no word yet on what you or Rand Paul sold yourselves for in that room full of corporate money.
From what I hear, the Annual Country Ham Breakfast, an event where politicians and pork come together to impress power ($) and people, went pretty much as usual. Pigs did not fly nor did my hero, Congressman John Yarmuth, earn the recognition he deserved - until later, when a listener emailed a radio talk show host to ask why he didn’t stand to applaud you at the pork fest. And a hero was born.
I’ll let Joseph Gerth of the Courier Journal tell the rest of the story:
U.S. Rep. John Yarmuth sharply criticized Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell Friday, saying the most powerful Republican in Washington “has this wonderful habit of being meticulously accurate with what he says and rarely honest.”
Yarmuth, D-3rd District, acknowledged that he didn’t stand for McConnell and said the Republican leader was misleading the crowd when he talked about the impact of a Democratic proposal to allow some of the Bush-era tax cuts to expire at the end of the year.
Specifically, he took issue with McConnell’s claim that increasing the income tax rate on the top earners would affect 50 percent of all small business income.
“I didn’t have a Joe Wilson moment, although I was close,” said Yarmuth, a reference to the South Carolina Republican who shouted “you lie” as President Barack Obama spoke to a joint session of Congress last September.
McConnell, in a statement, responded by saying, “I appreciate John pointing out that my arguments against the Democrats’ efforts to raise taxes on small businesses in Kentucky were ‘meticulously accurate.’ ”
McConnell told the breakfast that Republicans and Democrats would be fighting over a tax increase when they return to Washington next month.
“You’ve heard those in charge in Washington argue that this is only going to be a tax increase on people making over a quarter of a million dollars a year and you’ve gotten out your tax return and breathed a sigh of relief and said, ‘Gee, it won’t affect me,’ ” McConnell said.
“The problem with that is, if you raise taxes on the top two (tax brackets) you will impact 50 percent of small business income and 24 percent of the workforce in the middle of a recession, because a huge percentage of our businesses don’t pay taxes as corporations, they pay taxes as individuals,” McConnell said.
On the WHAS program, Yarmuth argued that, while McConnell was technically accurate, only a small percentage of small business owners would be affected by a tax increase.
“The 50 percent of small business income is basically being earned by billionaires,” Yarmuth said. “It’s just so disingenuous to try to create the impression that the vast number of small business owners are going to be affected.”
Republicans and Democrats agree that more than 90 percent of small businesses pay taxes at individual rates. But the Joint Committee on Taxation, a nonpartisan congressional group, says that in 2011 only about 3 percent of all taxpayers reporting net positive business income — about 750,000 — would earn enough to qualify to pay higher rates if taxes are raised on individuals earning more than $200,000 or couples earning more than $250,000.
Yarmuth said he has known McConnell for about 40 years and was a political ally before becoming a Democrat in 1985. Throughout that time, he said, McConnell has used facts in such a way as to mislead voters.
And, calling McConnell “devious,” Yarmuth said the Senate minority leader knew he was mischaracterizing the statistics he cited.
I thank Congressman Yarmuth for his honesty, and for being courageous enough to say that he thinks we deserve the same from you. I hope other honest politicians will take his lead and stand up to those who are purposely misleading the public.
Bring It On Home To Me, Yeah
When I bring complex or troubling issues home with me, my principles instinctively apply themselves. In natural surroundings and familiar circumstances, I find my heart and the answers I need to work around talking points, campaign rhetoric, corporate double speak, and baseless opinions. Then, with my principles in check, it is much easier to leave the small world of home and consciously apply those same principles to the complex and troubling issues in the huge world outside.
For example, when someone comes to my home thirsty, hungry, cold, sleepy, or in pain, I offer drink, food, a sweater, a pillow, or an Aleve™. When I look someone in the eye, I do not wonder if he has a sandwich in his pocket that he is too lazy to pull out, or assume his pain is fake, or that it is punishment for failure to properly worship some god. I don’t smack her down and tell her to grab a bootstrap and find her own drink. I don’t begrudge a Coke, a sandwich, or an Aleve™, or cry over the hard-earned sixty-five cents I wasted on someone who isn’t me. When I bring it on home, I want everyone to be comfortable.
If I take those same principles out the door and into my community, I donate time and resources to food drives and shelters. I check the winter-help box on my utility bill and pledge a dollar toward heating a low-income home. Beyond the community, my country awaits my contributions through awareness, taxes, and action and my world provides agencies that will bring ‘me’ home to others when I can’t get to them.
At home, I open wedding invitations and mark my calendar. Sometimes, I think it might be too soon or they are too young. I have even fantasized about jumping out of my seat at that part of the ceremony where we always keep our piece, to say he surely hasn’t thought about how she will nag forever and she’s crazy if she thinks he is going to keep a job. In the end, however, I know the decision to marry belongs to them. The same principle applies to everyone out in the bigger world, regardless of any misgivings or misguided opinions I might have.
At home, I try to resolve conflict through verbal communication and compromise, understanding others, making new rules and promises, and making a rational plea for what I deserve. I would never purposely punish one child for the misdeed of another. I would not (at least willingly) allow people to take what is mine, lie to or about me, and fail to defend myself. I would not fire weapons into my neighbor’s home, kill his wife and children and destroy everything dear to them because I think he might be an abusive husband and have a gun hidden somewhere in the house. The same principles kept me from chanting bomb them back to the stone ages on September 12, put protest signs in my hand before we invaded Iraq, and made me denounce the administration that tortured in my name.
At home, I know my actions and decisions make or break my life. I thank the breadwinner and the cook for my meal. Outside my home, I thank the farmer who grew my food, the people who prepared and delivered it to me, the agencies that protect me from those who would harm me for profit. I am grateful to the doctors who keep me alive, to the people who help me physically, emotionally, and politically. In the bigger picture, I attribute the condition of our world to the humans who protect or destroy it. At home, the words I’m sorry, I love you, and how can I help mean nothing without actions to support them. I take credit or grief for my contributions and failures and expect the same actions – not prayers or promises – from humans in the bigger world, not super-beings in the sky or their imaginations.
When someone claims to like my new couch while propping his muddy shoes on the seat, I know his action speaks louder than his words. When he says he hopes I get well soon but stands between me and the doctor or medications I need, I know he wants me to believe he hopes I get well but he does not honestly wish that. When he says he prays for my safety yet decries funding the agencies and departments that keep me safe, I know he hopes I will transfer responsibility from him to his god. I recognize the same dishonesty outside the home, when you claim you care about me and then smear your muddy shoes on every bill that would prove it.
Stuff happens at home. Sometimes it feels like everything falls apart at the same time, usually when I can least afford to replace or repair them. As much as I hate debt, I know replacing an engine costs much more than a tune-up, and if I don’t repair the brakes I could hurt others, so borrowing money to maintain is wiser than standing firm on my vow to live debt-free. Investing in education and new tools might enable me to increase my income and ease the next disaster period. At home, I realize it is necessary to reconsider and update my vows as circumstances change. Leaving home with this one gets complicated since my principles tell me it is important to maintain necessities and to stay out of debt. However, when I look at what is in the best interest of everyone concerned and for the future, going into collective debt with the people outside my door makes sense.
At home, I feel the consequences of short cuts. The first time I bought cheap toilet paper, I realized I get what you pay for. The same is true outside the home. My government gets what it pays for.
I’ve grown weary of people who talk about values but show little evidence they intend to do anything more than whip out the word or promise to pray for their god to deliver what they are too lazy to think about or do. I want my home filled with friends who appreciate intelligence and honesty, who care and share, and who are not afraid of words like liberal, social, intelligence, and taxes. I want friends who read, discuss, and care about things that matter and who would not criticize anyone for wanting facts or challenging lies, or for caring more about people than things. I want to know that the people I associate with live ethics and morals instead of preaching them. I want to be around people who know that everything in life involves politics and beliefs, so refusing to discuss these topics would only mean they don’t care about life. I want the same things in people I associate with and support outside my home.
I say it is time to stop wasting precious time and energy on the same circle-debate regardless of the issue. Until both sides bring the issues home, attach and own the principles involved, the discussion will go nowhere and will accomplish nothing. If I had my way, the Democratic Party would adopt Bring It On Home as their only campaign slogan. It already has a really cool song to go with it and it would clearly demonstrate the difference between honest progressives and your party of no.
For example, when someone comes to my home thirsty, hungry, cold, sleepy, or in pain, I offer drink, food, a sweater, a pillow, or an Aleve™. When I look someone in the eye, I do not wonder if he has a sandwich in his pocket that he is too lazy to pull out, or assume his pain is fake, or that it is punishment for failure to properly worship some god. I don’t smack her down and tell her to grab a bootstrap and find her own drink. I don’t begrudge a Coke, a sandwich, or an Aleve™, or cry over the hard-earned sixty-five cents I wasted on someone who isn’t me. When I bring it on home, I want everyone to be comfortable.
If I take those same principles out the door and into my community, I donate time and resources to food drives and shelters. I check the winter-help box on my utility bill and pledge a dollar toward heating a low-income home. Beyond the community, my country awaits my contributions through awareness, taxes, and action and my world provides agencies that will bring ‘me’ home to others when I can’t get to them.
At home, I open wedding invitations and mark my calendar. Sometimes, I think it might be too soon or they are too young. I have even fantasized about jumping out of my seat at that part of the ceremony where we always keep our piece, to say he surely hasn’t thought about how she will nag forever and she’s crazy if she thinks he is going to keep a job. In the end, however, I know the decision to marry belongs to them. The same principle applies to everyone out in the bigger world, regardless of any misgivings or misguided opinions I might have.
At home, I try to resolve conflict through verbal communication and compromise, understanding others, making new rules and promises, and making a rational plea for what I deserve. I would never purposely punish one child for the misdeed of another. I would not (at least willingly) allow people to take what is mine, lie to or about me, and fail to defend myself. I would not fire weapons into my neighbor’s home, kill his wife and children and destroy everything dear to them because I think he might be an abusive husband and have a gun hidden somewhere in the house. The same principles kept me from chanting bomb them back to the stone ages on September 12, put protest signs in my hand before we invaded Iraq, and made me denounce the administration that tortured in my name.
At home, I know my actions and decisions make or break my life. I thank the breadwinner and the cook for my meal. Outside my home, I thank the farmer who grew my food, the people who prepared and delivered it to me, the agencies that protect me from those who would harm me for profit. I am grateful to the doctors who keep me alive, to the people who help me physically, emotionally, and politically. In the bigger picture, I attribute the condition of our world to the humans who protect or destroy it. At home, the words I’m sorry, I love you, and how can I help mean nothing without actions to support them. I take credit or grief for my contributions and failures and expect the same actions – not prayers or promises – from humans in the bigger world, not super-beings in the sky or their imaginations.
When someone claims to like my new couch while propping his muddy shoes on the seat, I know his action speaks louder than his words. When he says he hopes I get well soon but stands between me and the doctor or medications I need, I know he wants me to believe he hopes I get well but he does not honestly wish that. When he says he prays for my safety yet decries funding the agencies and departments that keep me safe, I know he hopes I will transfer responsibility from him to his god. I recognize the same dishonesty outside the home, when you claim you care about me and then smear your muddy shoes on every bill that would prove it.
Stuff happens at home. Sometimes it feels like everything falls apart at the same time, usually when I can least afford to replace or repair them. As much as I hate debt, I know replacing an engine costs much more than a tune-up, and if I don’t repair the brakes I could hurt others, so borrowing money to maintain is wiser than standing firm on my vow to live debt-free. Investing in education and new tools might enable me to increase my income and ease the next disaster period. At home, I realize it is necessary to reconsider and update my vows as circumstances change. Leaving home with this one gets complicated since my principles tell me it is important to maintain necessities and to stay out of debt. However, when I look at what is in the best interest of everyone concerned and for the future, going into collective debt with the people outside my door makes sense.
At home, I feel the consequences of short cuts. The first time I bought cheap toilet paper, I realized I get what you pay for. The same is true outside the home. My government gets what it pays for.
I’ve grown weary of people who talk about values but show little evidence they intend to do anything more than whip out the word or promise to pray for their god to deliver what they are too lazy to think about or do. I want my home filled with friends who appreciate intelligence and honesty, who care and share, and who are not afraid of words like liberal, social, intelligence, and taxes. I want friends who read, discuss, and care about things that matter and who would not criticize anyone for wanting facts or challenging lies, or for caring more about people than things. I want to know that the people I associate with live ethics and morals instead of preaching them. I want to be around people who know that everything in life involves politics and beliefs, so refusing to discuss these topics would only mean they don’t care about life. I want the same things in people I associate with and support outside my home.
I say it is time to stop wasting precious time and energy on the same circle-debate regardless of the issue. Until both sides bring the issues home, attach and own the principles involved, the discussion will go nowhere and will accomplish nothing. If I had my way, the Democratic Party would adopt Bring It On Home as their only campaign slogan. It already has a really cool song to go with it and it would clearly demonstrate the difference between honest progressives and your party of no.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Groove On This, Senator McConnell
Dear Senator McConnell:
For once, you got something right. Yes, THE American People have lost faith. I don’t think you understand the depth of this loss or you surely would not be so cavalier when speaking about it. Even I, as untraditional and crude as I can be, was shocked by your immature “groove back” dismissal of your culpability in obstructing progress that is imperative to the welfare of THE American People, individually and collectively. This, Senator McConnell, your failure to lead in an intelligent, respectful manner has caused people to lose faith.
I’m sure you feel “groovey” about President Obama’s negative poll numbers. Before the cockiness settles too firmly, let me explain. Yes, we are unhappy with President Obama for reaching out to you, and for allowing you to waste precious time that we don’t have to spare. You have stated repeatedly that your only plan is to say no. We understand that. We know you will take this country down with you rather than cooperate in any way with this administration. Remember that last election? That was THE American People telling you that they wanted President Obama’s changes. We know that, and we want President Obama to admit finally that he knows it too. And we want him to tell us he knows your party of obstructionists are a threat to the salvation of this country.
THE American People will have faith in their government once again when our leaders stand up and act like leaders.
To show that I am willing to talk to you on any level you choose, I’ve written a little Groove Back rap in your honor.
Mitch got his groove back
“virtually” every survey shows
he’s perfected the art of slack
proven what he doesn’t know
Mitch got his groove back
showed he doesn’t care
how far he strays off track
or who knows he isn’t fair
Mitch got his groove back
let us see what he can’t do
despite his constant childish flack
another bill got through
Mitch got his groove back
the pathetic political hack
proved his leadership is whack
we mustn’t bring him back
(I realize this isn't quite where it needs to be but promise I'll work on dumbing down if you will slow down until I catch up.)
Sincerely,
Sandy
cc: President Obama
For once, you got something right. Yes, THE American People have lost faith. I don’t think you understand the depth of this loss or you surely would not be so cavalier when speaking about it. Even I, as untraditional and crude as I can be, was shocked by your immature “groove back” dismissal of your culpability in obstructing progress that is imperative to the welfare of THE American People, individually and collectively. This, Senator McConnell, your failure to lead in an intelligent, respectful manner has caused people to lose faith.
I’m sure you feel “groovey” about President Obama’s negative poll numbers. Before the cockiness settles too firmly, let me explain. Yes, we are unhappy with President Obama for reaching out to you, and for allowing you to waste precious time that we don’t have to spare. You have stated repeatedly that your only plan is to say no. We understand that. We know you will take this country down with you rather than cooperate in any way with this administration. Remember that last election? That was THE American People telling you that they wanted President Obama’s changes. We know that, and we want President Obama to admit finally that he knows it too. And we want him to tell us he knows your party of obstructionists are a threat to the salvation of this country.
THE American People will have faith in their government once again when our leaders stand up and act like leaders.
To show that I am willing to talk to you on any level you choose, I’ve written a little Groove Back rap in your honor.
Mitch got his groove back
“virtually” every survey shows
he’s perfected the art of slack
proven what he doesn’t know
Mitch got his groove back
showed he doesn’t care
how far he strays off track
or who knows he isn’t fair
Mitch got his groove back
let us see what he can’t do
despite his constant childish flack
another bill got through
Mitch got his groove back
the pathetic political hack
proved his leadership is whack
we mustn’t bring him back
(I realize this isn't quite where it needs to be but promise I'll work on dumbing down if you will slow down until I catch up.)
Sincerely,
Sandy
cc: President Obama
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Happy Independence Day, Senator McConnell?
Dear Senator McConnell:
Despite your bang-up leadership in the opposite direction, and your party's recent refusal to allow the BP Oil Spill Commission the subpoena power it needs to do its job, most of physical America still stands on Independence Day, 2010. And, despite your ill-informed objection to Elena Kagan, it looks like she will be confirmed because The American People do want a judge who will impartially apply the law and who will recognize We the People instead of You and Your Corporate Donors. And, despite your refusal to show compassion to the unemployed (the uninsured, the homeless, the hungry . . . ), I haven’t actually seen all of The American people lying starving and homeless in the streets, yet. And, despite your siding with bankers instead of The American People on Financial Reform, you haven't managed to completely transfer all of the wealth into your own pocket. Some of us still have a few cents jingling in our pockets.
Despite every effort to show us that you care nothing about this country or The American People who inhabit it, I still wish you a happy independence day. I wish my fellow Kentuckians and the rest of this great nation an even happier day when we finally claim our independence from you.
HYPOCRACY ALERT: May be more than most people can stomach
Despite your bang-up leadership in the opposite direction, and your party's recent refusal to allow the BP Oil Spill Commission the subpoena power it needs to do its job, most of physical America still stands on Independence Day, 2010. And, despite your ill-informed objection to Elena Kagan, it looks like she will be confirmed because The American People do want a judge who will impartially apply the law and who will recognize We the People instead of You and Your Corporate Donors. And, despite your refusal to show compassion to the unemployed (the uninsured, the homeless, the hungry . . . ), I haven’t actually seen all of The American people lying starving and homeless in the streets, yet. And, despite your siding with bankers instead of The American People on Financial Reform, you haven't managed to completely transfer all of the wealth into your own pocket. Some of us still have a few cents jingling in our pockets.
Despite every effort to show us that you care nothing about this country or The American People who inhabit it, I still wish you a happy independence day. I wish my fellow Kentuckians and the rest of this great nation an even happier day when we finally claim our independence from you.
HYPOCRACY ALERT: May be more than most people can stomach
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Steve, Pretty Women, and Senator McConnell
Dear Senator McConnell:
While watching primary election results last night, I remembered Steve. Immediately, I regretted the fact that I often mention the negative attention my bumper stickers attract but seldom share stories about how they bring people like Steve into my life.
It’s true that my anti-war bumper stickers draw more middle fingers than thumbs up, but I think that reflects more on the types, not numbers, of people who sit on opposite sides of this fence. It is also true that I have too many bumper stickers on my piece-of-junk car, and that I claim that I need them to hold it together, which might mean some of those middle fingers are from people who consider my car an eye-sore. And it is true that I blame right-wing-war-mongers who don't like my bumper stickers for the repeated acts of vandalism my car has suffered, and it's true that I have come to that conclusion based on the fact that while I'm in the car, grown men hang out their truck windows to shout obscenities and insult my President so I can only imagine what they might do when I'm not in it. I know my messages bring out the worst in Republicans who see them, and it is true that sometimes these men scare me but I refuse to let them silence me.
But none of those negative experiences matter as much to me as the warm smiles, silent nods of acceptance, understanding eyes, or new friends I meet because of my bumper stickers – like Steve, the Viet Nam veteran who stopped to tell me how much he appreciates my car. He stopped at my home specifically to tell me that passing my car each day made him smile, and to thank me. For months, he stopped when he saw me on the porch and we talked politics, sometimes for hours.
One day, he came by and took me to lunch to celebrate his brainstorm. He knew exactly how to get rid of our sorry rubber-stamp-for-Bush congresswoman. “Run a young, attractive female against her and she’ll be history,” he insisted. “Obviously, the people who elect her aren’t paying attention to what she’s doing.” He decided that my daughter was the perfect candidate since she was beautiful and informed, and he promised to raise the money she needed to run.
“She’s barely out of diapers,” I reminded him, disregarding the fact that he hadn’t suggested that I was attractive enough for the job. That was a slight exaggeration, but she wasn’t old enough to order a drink. That daughter jumped on the idea but discovered it was not possible to get around the age requirement and the other beautiful, informed daughter was too busy raising her children to run. I know you probably don’t share my opinion that we were fortunate when the community convinced John Yarmuth to run and Bush lost one rubber-stamp, or my relief to know that the Democrats could beat her without relying on superficial Republican votes for a pretty woman.
My dilemma after watching last night’s election results was in trying to decide if I am a victim of wire-tapping, or if Steve wandered over to the dark side. Or could it be a coincidence that the Republican Party is now running thoughtless, unethical, ill-informed pretty faces because they know, just like Steve did, that their party cares nothing about substance or ethics?
Sincerely,
Sandy
While watching primary election results last night, I remembered Steve. Immediately, I regretted the fact that I often mention the negative attention my bumper stickers attract but seldom share stories about how they bring people like Steve into my life.
It’s true that my anti-war bumper stickers draw more middle fingers than thumbs up, but I think that reflects more on the types, not numbers, of people who sit on opposite sides of this fence. It is also true that I have too many bumper stickers on my piece-of-junk car, and that I claim that I need them to hold it together, which might mean some of those middle fingers are from people who consider my car an eye-sore. And it is true that I blame right-wing-war-mongers who don't like my bumper stickers for the repeated acts of vandalism my car has suffered, and it's true that I have come to that conclusion based on the fact that while I'm in the car, grown men hang out their truck windows to shout obscenities and insult my President so I can only imagine what they might do when I'm not in it. I know my messages bring out the worst in Republicans who see them, and it is true that sometimes these men scare me but I refuse to let them silence me.
But none of those negative experiences matter as much to me as the warm smiles, silent nods of acceptance, understanding eyes, or new friends I meet because of my bumper stickers – like Steve, the Viet Nam veteran who stopped to tell me how much he appreciates my car. He stopped at my home specifically to tell me that passing my car each day made him smile, and to thank me. For months, he stopped when he saw me on the porch and we talked politics, sometimes for hours.
One day, he came by and took me to lunch to celebrate his brainstorm. He knew exactly how to get rid of our sorry rubber-stamp-for-Bush congresswoman. “Run a young, attractive female against her and she’ll be history,” he insisted. “Obviously, the people who elect her aren’t paying attention to what she’s doing.” He decided that my daughter was the perfect candidate since she was beautiful and informed, and he promised to raise the money she needed to run.
“She’s barely out of diapers,” I reminded him, disregarding the fact that he hadn’t suggested that I was attractive enough for the job. That was a slight exaggeration, but she wasn’t old enough to order a drink. That daughter jumped on the idea but discovered it was not possible to get around the age requirement and the other beautiful, informed daughter was too busy raising her children to run. I know you probably don’t share my opinion that we were fortunate when the community convinced John Yarmuth to run and Bush lost one rubber-stamp, or my relief to know that the Democrats could beat her without relying on superficial Republican votes for a pretty woman.
My dilemma after watching last night’s election results was in trying to decide if I am a victim of wire-tapping, or if Steve wandered over to the dark side. Or could it be a coincidence that the Republican Party is now running thoughtless, unethical, ill-informed pretty faces because they know, just like Steve did, that their party cares nothing about substance or ethics?
Sincerely,
Sandy
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Rubber Stamp?
You seriously had the gall to mention rubber stamp and weren't apologizing for your own contributions during the Bush administration?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Senator McConnell Joins American Idol Contestants
Dear Senator McConnell:
We’re in the final weeks of American Idol, when my heart aches for the kids who have worked so hard, come so close, and can feel the breeze of defeat racing toward them. Being of the bleeding-heart ilk, working up enough emotion to cover you along with Crystal, Lee, Casey, and Mike - the remaining four contestants - came naturally last night. Interestingly, I saw a little of you in Mike, who the judges saved after he hit bottom a few weeks ago and who obviously didn’t think that meant he needed to step up his game. I also saw a bit of you in Casey, who can’t seem to find the heart to do what is necessary.
After the show, I texted my votes for Crystal and Lee, hoped the American people would recognize their talent and dedication and do the same, and directed the remainder of my concern to you. Even though you are not up for re-election this year, you surely must have felt that breeze this week when God spoke, and fate validated the tired when it rains it pours cliché.
As if having the news of an increase of 290,000 jobs in April come out almost at the exact moment you started running your “President Obama’s spending threatens to destroy more jobs” ad for Tray Grayson wasn’t bad enough, God sent a rather frightening warning against drill, baby, drill, your party’s most understandable slogan in recent years. I guess you probably know I am neither religious nor an expert about the oil industry so I will bow to the expertise of Republican Governor Perry of Texas, who continues to defend his belief that the oil spill can legally be determined to be an act of his god. I will also defend you when you flip flop on drill, baby, drill because, like the American Idol contestants are wise to listen to the judges, you will be wise to understand that Governor Perry’s god is seriously against offshore drilling.
And finally, what luck, at a time like this, to have those Brits show what can happen when reasonable people put their country before their party, huh? Seriously, when it rains it pours (literally, this week). Since I’m a cup-half-full kind of person, I am going to see this as the bright light shining on them, and not as a finger pointing at your obstructionist party.
Hoping you’ll move toward the light,
Sandy
Unrelated but interesting:
Pants on Fire
We’re in the final weeks of American Idol, when my heart aches for the kids who have worked so hard, come so close, and can feel the breeze of defeat racing toward them. Being of the bleeding-heart ilk, working up enough emotion to cover you along with Crystal, Lee, Casey, and Mike - the remaining four contestants - came naturally last night. Interestingly, I saw a little of you in Mike, who the judges saved after he hit bottom a few weeks ago and who obviously didn’t think that meant he needed to step up his game. I also saw a bit of you in Casey, who can’t seem to find the heart to do what is necessary.
After the show, I texted my votes for Crystal and Lee, hoped the American people would recognize their talent and dedication and do the same, and directed the remainder of my concern to you. Even though you are not up for re-election this year, you surely must have felt that breeze this week when God spoke, and fate validated the tired when it rains it pours cliché.
As if having the news of an increase of 290,000 jobs in April come out almost at the exact moment you started running your “President Obama’s spending threatens to destroy more jobs” ad for Tray Grayson wasn’t bad enough, God sent a rather frightening warning against drill, baby, drill, your party’s most understandable slogan in recent years. I guess you probably know I am neither religious nor an expert about the oil industry so I will bow to the expertise of Republican Governor Perry of Texas, who continues to defend his belief that the oil spill can legally be determined to be an act of his god. I will also defend you when you flip flop on drill, baby, drill because, like the American Idol contestants are wise to listen to the judges, you will be wise to understand that Governor Perry’s god is seriously against offshore drilling.
And finally, what luck, at a time like this, to have those Brits show what can happen when reasonable people put their country before their party, huh? Seriously, when it rains it pours (literally, this week). Since I’m a cup-half-full kind of person, I am going to see this as the bright light shining on them, and not as a finger pointing at your obstructionist party.
Hoping you’ll move toward the light,
Sandy
Unrelated but interesting:
Pants on Fire
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